


The Waiting Room

by nothingelsematters



Category: Cricket RPF, Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen, grief!fic, i'm sorry if this hits the wrong note with anyone, trying to comfort myself a little, wounded emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingelsematters/pseuds/nothingelsematters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men from very different worlds, countries, and lives, meet in a strange room.</p><p>Then one moves on, and leaves the other to his thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waiting Room

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry if anyone thinks this is inappropriate, or disrespectful - it was certainly not the intention. I have had this mental image in my head ever since it happened, and I hope that in sharing it, it helps others in their grief, too.
> 
> Jules Bianchi August 3 1989 - July 17 2015 #JB17
> 
> Phillip Hughes November 30 1988 - November 27 2014 #63notout

When Jules opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the floor of a very bright, white-and-silver room. This struck him as odd for several reasons, not the least of which was that it did not look like any room he had ever been in. Slowly, he sat up. Everything in his body ached in unison for a moment, especially his head; then it cleared, and he was able to look around. The room was a simple box, with silver-grey walls and a white roof, and a bench on one wall. Then he realised what was the strangest thing of all about the room.

There were no doors!

Jules stood up. No doors? Why was he in a room with no doors? No, there had to be a door. He didn't just get in the room by magic...did he? No, there must be a door. And he would find it, and then he would get out, and find the mechanic who thought this practical joke was funny.

Some time later - Jules wasn't sure how long - he was forced to conclude that there was no door.

So he sat on the bench.

It was oddly comfortable, and he settled in. Slowly, he was starting to recall what had happened. It had been raining - wet - dark - they should not have been racing, everyone had known it. He remembered being told Adrian had crashed, and then the feeling of his car hitting water, and sliding, straight towards -

\- no!

Jules' knuckles were white as he gripped the bench. He was dead! That was how he was magically in a room with no doors and a bench that defied the normal properties of benches. That was why he was dry and properly dressed in a clean racesuit. He must be dead, he could not survive an impact with a tractor. But if he was dead, why was he stuck in this room? Why was he alone?

*

Jules did not know how much time had passed before a door magically appeared on the right side of the room, and opened. He scrambled to his feet, but some force was locking him in place, and he could not run through the door. Through it he could see a green-grassed oval, and a cluster of figures in white around a prone figure on the ground. A small ball of light floated through, and the door promptly closed. The light hovered down near the floor, before materialising as a young man, lying on the floor just as Jules himself had been when he had come here.

The young man was totally unfamiliar to Jules. He was quite a small figure, and he was dressed oddly; white pants, and a white shirt, with a crest in green and gold over his breast - something niggled at the back of Jules' mind, he'd seen that crest before - and a strange baggy green cap. Guessing he would wake up soon, Jules sat on the bench and waited curiously.

Eventually, the young man opened his eyes. He had bright eyes, and blond-tipped hair; he looked friendly, and Jules liked him at once. But he also looked confused, and Jules was glad he was able to help.

"Bonjour."

The man jumped, looked around, and looked just as confused to see Jules as Jules was to see him.

"Hi."

"Je suis Jules."

"Jules...Bianchi? The racing driver?"

Jules nodded and smiled - and suddenly recognising the accent, hearing the echoes of Mark and Daniel in it. "You're Australian?"

The man nodded and stood up, holding his hand out to Jules. "Phillip. Phillip Hughes."

They shook hands, and there was an awkward moment of silence, before Phillip said awkwardly, "Um, so...I...you're..."

"Dead," Jules supplied. "I think, anyway."

"No," Phillip replied, sounding sure for the first time. "You're not dead. I know. You're in a coma, but you're not dead."

"I'm  _not_? So where am I?"

"You probably know better than me - but more importantly, where am _I_? Why am I here?" Phillip frowned. "I was - let's see, I was 63...I think Abbott was bowling, I don't remember after that."

They spent a considerable amount of time talking about their respective backgrounds. Phillip had the advantage - he at least knew who Jules was; it turned out that most of Australian cricket (Jules had trouble with the word, it doesn't sound quite right) are into motorsport of some kind, and most of them at least followed Mark, and follow Dan. Even though Phillip was clearly reluctant to talk about it, Jules got him to relay all he knows about the accident, and began to wonder if he will ever make it out of the room.

Jules didn't know how much time had passed - all he knew was that Phillip was attempting to explain the rules of cricket for the tenth time, and Jules still didn't get it. Then there was a sudden noise - a long, shrill beep, and suddenly Phillip, who like Jules had had a slightly translucent quality about him - became very solid, and a door on the left hand side opened.

Standing there was a small, neatly-dressed man, also in white, also with the baggy green cap that Jules had come to understand meant as much to Phillip as that point in Monaco had meant to him. Jules had no idea who this new person was, but Phillip clearly did; his face was awed.

"Phillip. It is time," the man said, and held out his hand. Phillip walked over to take it, and then stopped.

"Sir Bradman, sir, what about Jules?"

"He is not in my domain."

Phillip hesitated.

"Well - goodbye, then."

"Au reviour, Phillip."

The door closed, and once again Jules was alone.

*

After another period of time - Jules was never sure how long - he became aware that at times, he was more translucent than others, and sometimes, he was vaguely aware of a hospital - other times, it was his family he was aware of, his poor father looking more grieved and broken then Jules had ever seen him.

Then he realised there was someone sitting beside him - 

-  _Ayrton!_

"Mr...Mr Senna?"

"Hello, Jules," Ayrton said somberly. "I am not supposed to be here, but I cannot bear to know you are in here all alone."

"Where did Phillip go?"

"Phillip?"

"The - cricket player - who was in here with me, before."

Ayrton nodded. "He went -  _on_ ," he said simply.

"Where am I?"

"This is The Waiting Room," Ayrton replied. "This is where you come, simply, to wait. When the injury is bad enough that you will die, but you have not yet done so, you must wait, not in the world of the living, and not in the world of the dead."

Jules was silent for a time, looking out at the right wall, through which he could still occasionally be aware of things - though that was happening less frequently.

"So - Phillip died. That was where he went."

"Yes. Until then, he had been in a coma, but he did not survive."

Jules looked down at his hands. They were a little more solid than usual.

"How - how long must I wait?"

"I don't know."

Jules was quiet.

"I cannot stay," Ayrton said eventually. "I must return to the domain. The next time you see me, Jules, I will be coming for you."

*

Jules had not been aware of anything beyond the room for some time. He still wasn't sure how long he'd been in the Waiting Room, but he guessed it had been some time in the real world. Sometimes people flitted through, but without speaking. Jules came to understand that this Waiting Room was for sportspeople, which was why it was so empty.

And then he heard the shrill beep again.

"Hello, Jules."

Standing in a door on the left side of the room was Ayrton, and just as the other man had done with Phillip, he held out his hand.

"Is it time, Ayrton?"

"Yes, Jules. It is time."

Jules crossed the room to where Ayrton was standing.

"Can I go see Phillip, when we go through?"

"You can move between the domains, yes. I will help you find him."

"Where are we going?"

Ayrton turned to him with a widely brilliant smile, and ahead of him, Jules could hear the noises of a track on raceday.

"To join the grid, Jules, of the greatest race you will ever drive."

 

END.


End file.
